Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Oil Boom - Self Released
Having never been to Texas I probably have some fucked up ideas about the state which are thoroughly reinforced by this sleeve from Oil Boom's latest self released single, appropriately titled 45 revolutions per minute. Did these switchblade carrying, sunglasses wearing rockabilly greasers think I would be won over by a song title? Did this trio think they could email me a couple of links to their song about the seven inch and that would get my attention? It did indeed gentlemen. I love these tiny records and when you write and record a song about them and press them on the very format you wrote about? Well that's pretty much my idea of a perfect world.
Heavy riffs swing open A-Side's "45 Revolutions Per Minute" crunchy and thick, is there any other kind? It's got a Queens of the Stone Age feel, only from dusty and giant Texas. Ryan on vocals isn't afraid to let the spirit take him on this country-fied Rocket from the Crypt style shit kicking Cramps sound. Lots of reverbs and echo's getting carried away peaking out the vocal in a couple of places but you can't recut this feeling. Heads spinning at 45 rpm, a place I've definitely been in. So glad they actually pressed this up and paid homage to the genre. Booming drums under this grit of electric, like the Black keys at speed, pile on the reverb heavy with lots of vocal echo into some kind of updated surf sound that's landlocked in the plains with ten gallon hats and those derricks drilling away. The tracks elements are all heavily produced and separated for maximum damage to that waveform. A fuzzy solo that's melting pedals and panning across speakers. I like the way these guys think. That kind of experimentation is applied to phasered vocals and their loaded train of heavy bluesy pop that barrels through town like those dust bowl clouds in the distance.
"The Fiftease" on the B-Side has more of a slower prom dance groove to it, it's slower electric picking with the reverb pinging around, a couple more guitar tracks layer in and Ryan has that solid frontman aesthetic "I have a switchblade comb or two / cigarettes tucked in my shirtsleeve" talking about being born too late. Now I'm really seeing the chopped up hot rods, matte color grey with rolled up jeans and boots. The fifties never sounded like this, maybe some of this backup harmonizing and language but really this has way too much damaged rock with a lot of guitar harmonics. Shoebop shoebop be damned.
pick this up from the band direct on their bandcamp page.